I have often heard the saying that we need to give our children roots and wings. I found providing the roots instinctual. It was in my nature to nurture. It was my pleasure to offer rhythm and to create ritual. It was a breeze for me to make our house a home and shelter–physically, emotionally and spiritually. All these efforts came intuitively to me as I relished the wild wonder and real responsibility of being a mama. I feel certain that all three of my adult children are solidly rooted in themselves, their family, their communities and in the world. And I don’t mind taking some credit for that.
Now the wings part. This is a bit more challenging. Oh, not for them—for me! While I find the quiet that descends on my home when my adult children are off adventuring and living awesome lives elsewhere full of its own kind of richness, I miss them. It is a delight to me that I not only love my children, but I enjoy them. They surely have their wings, having spent numerous months backpacking the world, living and working in far flung places. It is me who recognizes the conundrum this time in my life offers, as well as the opportunity to hone my own skills as the proud and loving mother of grown children for whom I have provided those roots and wings. The mama who can no longer fix it all for them. The woman who has her own interests and talents to take time to further now. All that said, it remains a good news-bad news scenario in my book.
